


An Issue of Intragalactic Diplomacy

by Spawn_Of_Sin



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: M/M, Mission Fic, One Shot, Sexual Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-16 15:21:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29455926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spawn_Of_Sin/pseuds/Spawn_Of_Sin
Summary: James T. Kirk and his first officer, Commander Spock, are assigned to another boring diplomatic meeting to negotiate some kind of trade deal with an alien planet. It seems like just another routine assignment until he learns that this race has some rather unusual customs.The planet Aklivar requires that everyone who meets with their leader must remove all clothing before entering the official chambers and commencing negotiations. He’s dealt with considerably less tolerable customs in the past, so why is Jim so flustered? And why does he find the idea of Spock naked so distracting?[Jim and Spock here are a combination of their TOS and AOS characters]
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock
Comments: 8
Kudos: 50





	An Issue of Intragalactic Diplomacy

**Author's Note:**

> for those of you who enjoyed my other fic Blood Fever

Captain James T. Kirk emerges from his quarters, adjusting the sleeves of his uniform anxiously. He’s about to be beamed onto the planet Aklivar in the Hexa Mero star system to carry out trade negotiations on behalf of Starfleet. 

Jim has acted as an ambassador for the fleet plenty of times before, he’s gotten pretty good at it even, but he would much prefer the heated exchange of phaser blasts or the exhilaration of close combat than the excruciatingly slow drivel of diplomacy. Federation politics has a tendency to get too complicated for Jim’s liking, it’s never as straightforward as it seems at first glance.

He jumps when his first officer appears at his side. “Captain, there is something I was hoping to discuss with you before we meet with the Aklivaran officials.”

Jim groans internally. He was up late last night pouring over Federation documents and preparing for the meeting today. A bundle of nerves is already eating away at his insides, so he’s not sure he can handle whatever it is Spock wants to talk to him about right now. 

“It can wait, Spock.” Jim sighs, walking briskly towards the transporter room where he knows Scotty and Bones are waiting for them.

“Captain,” he urges, “I am concerned that-”

“Not now, Spock,” Jim pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration, “ _ please _ .”

Spock remains silent, but his lips press into a firm line of disapproval. Jim pretends not to notice the concerned furrow of his brow that makes a guilty lump form in his throat. 

As much as he dislikes diplomatic assignments, he’s glad that Spock is coming with him. Regardless of what unfamiliar situation his assignment might put him in, he’ll always be grateful for the presence of his headstrong friend by his side. Though he may be insufferable at times, Jim admits that Spock has an unusually comforting effect. This isn’t something he would ever dare to admit out loud, though.

Instead, he focuses on the echo of his footsteps as he walks down the gleaming halls of his ship, and the way it hums with energy if he listens closely. God, he loves his ship. It’s a beautiful thing, one that will always have a special place in his heart, and he knows that he’ll miss it as soon as he steps foot on the alien planet. He hopes this isn’t the last time he’ll be seeing it.

He walks into the transporter room to find Bones pacing back and forth across the opposite end of the room, only stopping when he looks up and sees the two of them enter. Scotty stands at the controls, rolling his eyes at Bones’ melodramatic theatrics.

“You both better be careful out there, alright?” He grips Jim’s shoulder with just a little too much force. “If you go and do some unnecessarily reckless shit that puts either of you in danger, I’ll make sure to kill you myself when you get back here.”

Jim struggles to pry Bones’ fingers off of himself, protesting, “This assignment is strictly diplomatic, Bones, you have nothing to worry about.”

Spock takes a step closer, adding, “I can assure you, Dr. McCoy, that I will be keeping a close eye on our captain.”

“Hmph.” Bones grunts, finally letting go of Jim to let him step up onto the platform.

Scotty presses a series of buttons and flips a few switches before saying, “Ready, Captain? Commander Spock?”

With a deep breath, a last ditch effort at calming the tempestuous thoughts inside his head, Jim makes a sidelong glance at his first officer. Spock takes his place a few feet away, his gaze quickly meeting Jim’s. 

For a moment, he has the overwhelming urge to reach out to Spock, to close the distance between them and seek out that feeling of comfort if only for a second. The realization of his own urges scares him a little, so he clenches his hands into fists at his side to ground himself. He doesn’t have time to unpack all of that right now, he has an assignment to carry out.

Tearing his eyes away from Spock, he looks back at Scotty and nods.

He’s suspended in a feeling of weightlessness as he’s beamed down to Aklivar, his insides flipping and then settling again when his feet meet solid ground.

The air is humid and thick as Jim breathes it in, scanning the courtyard that they’ve landed in that surrounds them in thick, red foliage. The sky peaking between the trees is a blushing pink that reflects dreamily off of the large glass dome atop the building in front of him. He doesn’t have much more time to admire the architecture before several Aklivaran officials walk up to greet him.

At first glance, they look almost human, but on closer inspection, several distinctive features quickly identify them as a different species. Their skin is almost translucently pale, like that of the vampires Jim has seen in old Terran movies. In stark contrast, their deep ruby-toned hair is worn loose and flowing, almost to their hips in length. On average, they also seem to be several feet shorter than most humanoid beings, though they walk with such easy grace that they make Jim feel awkward and clumsy in comparison.

The officials are dressed in form-fitting jumpsuits emblazoned with an important looking insignia on the chest in the shape of two outstretched branches, or maybe antlers, Jim can’t tell. Either way, they appear very important and mildly intimidating despite their size.

“Greetings, Captain,” the female says, dipping her head in a respectful nod, “we are honored to receive you here on Aklivar.”

“The pleasure is ours,” Jim responds politely, “I thank you for agreeing to meet with us. I’m Captain James T. Kirk of the U.S.S. Enterprise, and this is my first officer, Commander Spock.” He gestures to the Vulcan at his side, who also nods in greeting.

After exchanging pleasantries, the male official declares, “The Prime Alika is waiting for you in the negotiation chamber. If you will follow us, please.”

They’re guided through a tall doorway into an impressive hallway, the walls of which are covered in a curtain of glittering red vines that make Jim feel like he hasn’t even left the courtyard. He’s momentarily distracted by the large staircase ahead of them when Spock leans over to him as they walk.

“Captain, you dismissed my attempt earlier, but I must warn you concerning certain Aklivaran customs.” His tone takes a strange turn that makes Jim feel slightly uneasy.

He frowns. “Whatever their customs might be, Spock, I’m sure they can’t be any worse than some of the things we’ve already experienced. Do you not remember those people in the Polarian system that wore live animals in their hair? Or what about the species on planet Neeva who tried to collect our sweat to make perfume?”

Jim is horrified just at the memory of their experiences. He doesn’t consider himself to have anything close to a weak stomach, but seeing a family of small rodents crawling on a man’s head had nearly turned him as green as Vulcan blood.

“I can assure you that we won’t endure anything of the sort, but I’m aware that humans have particular...  _ reservations  _ that might make this meeting difficult for you.”

Jim scoffs, “Oh, please,  _ humans _ are the ones with reservations? You know you’re a Vulcan, right? I’ve never met a species as up-tight as yours.”

Spock ignores his remark and continues, “I am merely trying to prepare you for the possibility of an uncomfortable situation-”

“Spock,” he interrupts, giving the Commander a pointed look, “I can handle myself, thank you very much. Besides, we have more important things to be worrying about besides my discomfort. This is an important assignment we’re on and I’d appreciate it if you could just let me do my job.”

His words are dripping in sarcasm which he hopes that Spock has gotten better at detecting by now. He hates the idea that Spock might think he’s easily offended or sensitive in any way. The last time he checked, he was the captain of one of Starfleet’s most advanced ships in the galaxy. Besides, it’s his job as a superior to look out for the members of his crew, not the other way around.

Jim knows that Spock is staring daggers at him right now, but he keeps his eyes fixed pointedly on the backs of the Aklavaran officials ahead of them. A list of negotiation points is running through his mind right now, all of which he knows he has to bring up during the meeting today. There’s little room in his head for anything else right now.

As the group enters a narrow hallway going towards a set of doors leading deeper into the building, an unidentifiable but oddly appealing scent grows stronger in the air. He’s drawn to it, like it’s a word he’s searching for that he can just barely feel on the tip of his tongue.

A dampness forms on the palms of his hands which he quickly tries to wipe away on his freshly pressed black slacks. The fabric rubs uncomfortably against his skin. He’s more nervous than he expected to be, and a ball of frustration begins to form in the pit of his stomach.

The officials stand on either side of the doors, placing each of their hands on a metal plate embedded in the wall. Jim hears a  _ click _ and then the doors are sliding open. The room on the other side has a number of lavishly cushioned seats and rectangular shelves lining the sides and it reminds Jim vaguely of the locker rooms by the Enterprise’s gym. The scent is stronger now.

“Enter the doors on the far side of the chamber whenever you’re ready, Captain Kirk.” The female official gestures at the exit at the back of the room.

Jim frowns. “Ready?”

“Yes, this chamber here is to provide you with privacy while you disrobe before the negotiations.” 

He’s frozen in place for a second, blinking in confusion, as he attempts to register what he’s being told.

“No clothing is permitted in the negotiation chambers,” she explains, clearly sensing his bewilderment, “your belongings are perfectly safe here in this room, I can assure you.”

Jim is too shocked to do anything besides let the officials usher him through the doors, otherwise he’d likely be protesting furiously. The intoxicating scent in the air, however, is making it difficult for the anger in his blood to rise. For some reason, he can’t bring himself to be upset about anything.

“Feel free to press the button on the wall over there if you need any assistance, gentlemen. We’ll be taking our leave now.” The male official bows before the both of them retreat from the room, the doors sliding closed behind them, and he and his first officer are left alone.

He’s frozen in place, still struggling to process the fact that he and Spock are going to have to be naked while they conduct official Starfleet business. Was this included in the briefing he read last night? He’s sure he would’ve remembered reading something like that. 

“ _ Spock _ ,” he turns to the Vulcan at his side, “ _ why didn’t you tell me about this? _ ”

He raises one of his eyebrows and gives Jim a look that makes him want to throttle him. “If you can recall, Captain, I attempted to inform you of this on two separate occasions.”

“I’m a highly regarded Federation Starfleet officer... This is  _ demeaning _ . Surely I shouldn’t have to follow such a ridiculous rule!” 

Jim paces back and forth muttering to himself, trying to find a way out of this, while Spock tries to reason with him.

“This is an ancient Aklivaran tradition that’s been practiced for centuries. It is not intended to demean. Rather, it is a sign of good faith on behalf of visiting diplomats to display vulnerability to their leader. It has the added benefit of ensuring that no one entering the negotiation chamber is armed, reducing the risks of an assassination.”

He hates it when Spock is right about things. It makes sense, actually, not even just from a logical standpoint. Of course the universe would somehow find a way to put him in possibly the most uncomfortable situation imaginable. 

Jim stops pacing when he sees Spock pulling up the hem of his shirt out of the corner of his eye. He feels his face grow hot and quickly looks away.

“It would be seen as exceptionally disrespectful not to comply with their traditions, Captain. And might I remind you that the economic potential of this meeting is worth the small degree of shame that this might cause you.”

Spock’s words are taunting, immediately stinging Jim’s ego in suggesting that he would back down from their assignment because of a little nudity. Suddenly, all of his hesitation is replaced with steadfast determination. There’s no way in hell he’s going to let Spock’s silly assumptions about human modesty be proved right. 

Maybe a little too aggressively, Jim unbuttons the ornately embroidered Starfleet jacket that he’d had specially cleaned for this meeting. It’s a shame that he got all dressed up just to take it all off before he actually meets with the Prime Alika. He breathes a tiny bit easier when it falls off of his shoulders, though.

He focuses on folding his clothes into a neat pile to distract himself from the fact that Spock is undressing behind him. He hears the unbuckling of a belt and feels something catch in his throat. 

As his pants slide down his legs, goosebumps form across his skin. The silence in the room is almost unbearable, but his mind is racing and he wouldn’t have been able to come up with something to say if his life depended on it. He feels silly for being so flustered. There’s also still that damn  _ smell _ wafting through the air that’s starting to make him dizzy.

He takes a shaky breath before sliding out of his boxers, and then he’s completely naked. Being entirely undressed, he thought he would be cold, but the temperature in the room combined with a slight humidity makes him feel strangely comfortable. 

After storing all of his belongings into one of the shelving compartments on the wall, he knows he’ll have to turn around and face his first officer eventually. For Spock, this is probably no big deal, it’s just simple anatomy. This shouldn’t be a big deal for Jim, either, but for some reason his stomach is swarming with nerves. 

Taking another deep inhale of the chamber’s heady aroma, he squares his shoulders and tries to seek out that stubborn confidence that he’s known for. He’s Captain James T. Kirk for god’s sake, he’s faced the galaxy’s deadliest foes, escaped the seemingly inescapable, so he knows he’s capable of overcoming some minor embarrassment. 

“Are you ready, Captain?” Spock’s voice is patient and encouraging, which does the polar opposite of settle his nerves.

The first thing Jim notices when he turns around is how broad Spock’s shoulders are. His eyes follow the line of his collarbone toward his well built arms which are clasped firmly behind his back. His skin is almost glowing in the dim lighting, soft and luminescent. There’s a layer of dark, neatly trimmed hair splayed across Spock’s chest and abdomen that makes him want to run his fingers over it, to bury his face between his pecs and feel the friction against his cheeks. 

Jim can’t bear to look lower than Spock’s abdomen, even though he can see it out of the corner of his eye. His gaze moves back up to Spock’s long neck, the angular shape of his jaw, the steadfast jut of his chin. His heart skips a beat when he finally meets Spock’s eyes, dark and imploring.

There’s nothing inherently sexual about their situation, but Jim can’t help feeling heat rising to his face. To know that he is presenting himself, exposed and vulnerable, to Spock, is far more intimate than he had imagined. For Spock to be doing the same in front of Jim is equally intimate, a sign of intense trust.

Jim has always been a more sexual being than most, often in the mood for a good time regardless of species or sex. He’s accepted it as something that’s simply part of his nature. It’s probably totally normal that he might feel some sort of attraction towards his first officer, right? It’s undeniable that Spock is good-looking, stunning even, which is something he’s not at all ashamed to admit. It’s only natural that his body would recognize this, too. Right?

He doesn’t notice that he’s clenched his fists at his sides until he feels the sharp sting of his nails digging into his palm. The pain brings a welcome moment of clarity that reminds Jim to stop staring. He has more important things to be worrying about right now.

“Yes,” Jim responds, clearing his throat, “I’m ready.”

He walks up to the set of doors leading to the negotiation chamber, leading the way so that he won’t be distracted by the sight of Spock in front of him. Jim is afraid to see how he’d react to seeing him from behind, frankly.

A sensor above the doors beeps as each of them approach it, likely a metal detector of some kind to ensure they aren’t concealing weapons on their bodies. With an ominous hiss, the doors slide open.

This is going to be a long meeting.

**Author's Note:**

> happy Valentine's Day everyone! you all deserve some Spirk :)


End file.
